


If You Have a Good Candidate

by hazzahandsome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ...Honestly tagging is hard. I have no idea., Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazzahandsome/pseuds/hazzahandsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had been devastated to a point which Harry hadn’t understood at the time, but had come to accept (even if he didn’t really want to). Perrie was nice - a really sweet girl - and pretty enough if that’s what he wanted. But Harry was sure Zayn could do better if he even bothered to look. ‘No, stop that. I can’t think that way anymore.’"</p>
<p>In other words: Relationship woes with Perrie, cause Zayn to question what his feelings about Harry entail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Have a Good Candidate

"Listen, I just really don’t want to talk about this right now," Zayn clutched the phone tighter to his ear and angled his body further into the corner he was standing in. “No.  _No_  that’s not what I’m saying."

He could vaguely hear the voices of his friends and co-workers behind him, as they all shuffled around in the early morning - setting up curling irons and blow dryers and rolling out white backdrops. The voice flowing through his ear fought against the sound of shutter clicks, as the photographer (a really big, deal he was constantly being told) took a few test shots of the ground. Just to make sure all of his equipment was working - he would do the real test shots later in the day. “I’m at work, Perrie."

_"We have to talk about this, Zayn. You can’t treat me however you want!"_

He sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time, and brought his free hand up to rub roughly at his temple. Louis shouted at Liam from somewhere behind him, both breaking into a burst of laughter he’d much rather be a part of than the conversation he was currently having. “They spin stories to sell papers. You, out of all people, should know that."

_"Zayn —"_

"No, Perrie," he spoke lowly. “I’m not saying I won’t talk about it, ya know? It’s like… How they’re saying it went down…. It’s not true, but I’ll discuss it all you want. But I’m at  _work_  - and I’m going to end up putting us all behind as long as I’m on the phone talking about this. I have to get into hair.." The sound of quick rustling filled his ears, as Perrie shifted the phone in her hands from one ear to the other, stood up briefly from the couch, before plunging back down with both legs tucked under her. He could see it clearly in his mind. He knew her well. When she next spoke, Zayn let out another defeated sigh, before pushing his un-quiffed head deeper into the corner crease and closing his eyes.

~~~

Harry tilted his head down - his chin making immediate contact with his chest - to look over at his friend, from his spot lying on a raggedy couch that the magazine had brought to the warehouse that they would be spending part of the day in. Zayn had crowded himself into the corner almost immediately upon entering the building, when his cell rang and Perrie was on the other end. Harry wasn’t surprised.

Reaching down, he flattened out the white tank he had stolen from Niall and pulled the flaps of the red sweater he had stolen from Louis closer around him - his eyes never leaving the corner.

The story had leaked the night prior.  _Another_  story.  _Another_  recording from some random girl in some random town who wanted evidence of her night with Zayn Malik.

Harry had listened to it when he woke up that morning. It had been the top trend on Twitter and he was sure if he pulled out his own phone, it still would be. He could tell just from listening that it was a long time ago during Zayn and Perrie’s “Time Apart," which had actually just been her breaking up with him. 

He had been devastated to a point which Harry hadn’t understood at the time, but had come to accept (even if he didn’t really want to). Perrie was nice - a really sweet girl - and pretty enough if that’s what he wanted. But Harry was sure Zayn could do better if he even bothered to look.  _‘No, stop that. I can’t think that way anymore.’_

She hadn’t wanted to be with him anymore and if it wasn’t for Zayn’s answering demeanor - gloomy and eerily quiet - Harry would of been grateful to be rid of her. 

He liked her, he really did. She was funny, kind, made good conversation, and Zayn’s face lit up around her in a way Harry would of liked it to light up around him. In this  _special_  way. He  _did_  have a look (one of a love that most people would never have with their friends), but the rest of the boys had it, too -  and somehow that made him feel jilted.

She had broken up with him and while Harry was selfishly glad that he’d no longer have to have less “Zayn and Harry Time," he also despised the crushed expression on Zayn’s face anytime an interviewer asked who had a girlfriend and who didn’t.

So, they had decided to let go on tour in a way neither of them had done in awhile. They went out together more often - the other boys coming sometimes, as well. They pulled together. And more than once, they called the girls who were making their way towards the hotel to tell them how to get in.

It was “Christabelle Riley" all over again.

Harry knew that Zayn was more worried this time than he had been the first time around. Because for some reason, recordings of him trying to get a quick shag on tour only seemed to come out whenever he was dating Perrie - and it was getting increasingly more difficult to convince her that the incidents had occurred when they were no longer together. 

Personally, Harry thought Zayn should be far more concerned about how their management team would want to deal with the situation, than how his girlfriend was handling it. They were incredibly understanding the first time, but two times might not be so great. Then again, he wasn’t in a relationship himself, so it was possible he just didn’t really get it.

He sighed as he lifted his head back up and pushed it into the cushions behind him. He closed his eyes, still not used to be awake so early - despite having to take part in the practice almost everyday for so many years. He just started to drift away when he heard familiar footsteps making their way back towards the rest of the group.

When Harry pried his eyes back open, Zayn stood nearby looking over Niall’s shoulder (but not really) at the magazine littered on his lap. He was attempting to shove his phone back into his back pocket, and letting out a tiny curse whenever his shaking hands missed their destination. His normally bright chestnut eyes sat dull and tired.

"Come here," Harry’s voice sounded - tired and scratchy from the sleep he had managed to catch up on. When Zayn set his gaze on his friend, Harry threw his arms wide open and gave him a soft smile. “Let’s have a cuddle."

Nodding immediately  Zayn kicked carelessly at the heels of his shoes, dumped them near the base of the couch and let Harry grab at his wrist and tug him softly down next to him. He stilled briefly, letting Zayn snuggle in as close as he wanted, before wrapping his own arms around him. Zayn’s nose tucked into the crook of his neck, breath blowing rhythmically against Harry. “You don’t have the best luck," Harry sighed and petted Zayn’s hair.

"I think it was used all up for One Direction…. And, like.. there’s no more for anything else."

"Hmmm," he watched Zayn close his eyes and decided to do the the same. Their legs twisted together further down the couch - Zayn’s socked toes tickling lightly at Harry’s own bare feet (and eventually catching on, so  _intentionally_  brushing his toes across Harry’s). 

~~~

The sound of a shutter clicking brought Harry’s eyes open once more, to see one of the many young, trendy women working on the magazine shoot. A strap hung loosely around her neck attached to the camera she held clutched in her polished fingers - aimed in their direction. He quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected intrusion - not bad, just unexpected - and she offered a shy smile. “Sorry," she gushed just a little too squeaky for it to be her normal tone. “We’re taking some behind the scenes things. You both looked really cute, so we thought it’d be a good photograph for a segment we’re doing."

"No, no. It’s fine," his feet stretched out, accidentally knocking his own coat (which had been resting precariously on the arm) off of the couch and disturbing Zayn’s sleeping forum slightly. He chose to ignore his coat and smile instead. “You just startled me. We are at  _your_  disposal." The rampant blush that overtook her face had Harry widening his grin and the woman quickly running off to photograph Louis, who was currently trying to use Liam as a step ladder to a window that overlooked the city outside.

Lou shuffled over just then with a exasperated expression donning her face, “I’m going to need you both soon. Niall’s almost done - then I’ll do Louis - then both of you.  _Please_  be awake and up by then. I can do your makeups while you’re asleep  but I can’t do your hair. Okay?" She waited for confirmation that they hadn’t completely ignored her, before making her way back to the blonde sat in her chair.

Silence (well as silent as a bustling warehouse full of photography technicians and such could be) overtook them again and just as Harry was about to drift away once more, Zayn’s voice huffed out small and weak - an uncommon sound from his friend. “She’s going to break up with me this time…." 

Harry had to bite the urge to spit out that she had  _already_  broken up with him in the past. That Zayn and her had  _tried_  to work once already and failed, and that it was probably best to just use this incident as the final path to ending it once and for all.  That there were tall, curly haired brunette boys, with an affinity for tattoos and bananas who would be a better choice. Who would be better suited for him. Who was different enough in personality and spirit to always be interesting, but similar enough that there would always be a certain symmetry. Who knew him on a far deeper level than most other people and wouldn’t jump to the worst possible conclusions on such trivial matters such as ‘You slept with someone else once upon a time who wasn’t me’. Who, yes, had a penis. But he was sure Zayn would end up enjoying the things Harry knew how to do with it - despite the fact that he wasn’t quite as used to that path (which wasn’t exactly true - he had drunkenly told Harry before, of a couple experiments he had actually enjoyed).

"You don’t know that, Zee," is what he said instead - thumb twirling the hair at the base of Zayn’s neck. It did little to calm the boy in his arms, who was already shaking his head. 

"No, I’m pretty sure this is it."

The only downside to the relationship ending, in Harry’s opinion, was that they were all fairly good friends with the rest of Little Mix. Louis texted Jade an abnormal amount, that Harry had actually bothered to ask one day if something was going on between them. It was plausible - he and Eleanor had broken up a year prior (which Harry still found odd, sense he had put  _so_  much into making sure it lasted) and Jade was really pretty adorable. She had a lot of qualities Lou looked for in a girl. He had said ‘no’, but Harry had also seen the look of hope in his eyes. 

If any of them threw a party, the girls were invited - and it would seem weird if Perrie was dropped off that list. But, she probably wouldn’t be even if they  _did_  break up. Which they wouldn’t - Harry was pretty sure of it. Perrie liked playing with Zayn. She found it a game. They ran in the same circle, had the same friends, worked at the same label - and Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to see the look on Zayn’s face every time they came in contact with Little Mix….. and who would get the dog?

Nobody liked Sad Zayn. Nobody.

"You just have to explain… because she obviously knows it was really you…. voice and all," Harry shrugged - not really wanting to help the couple flourish, but needing to help Zayn. It was really complicated. “You just have to explain that is was when you were on your…. break."

Harry had to strain his ears to hear Zayn’s whisper, “No, that won’t matter to her."

And suddenly, Harry was  _angry_. Perrie - who had publicly dated somebody else during their ‘time apart’ wouldn’t let the truth matter to her. Zayn - who spent five months in a constant state of depression, that Harry had worked day in and day out to help him out of, would be shoved back out into the cold and all because he had tried to get over her. Which was what  _she_  had asked for and that wasn’t fair at all. Because, Harry would never treat Zayn that way and Harry would never not let him explain if something had went wrong.

"Just tell the truth… that you were so  _hurt_  and _upset_  about not having her - being with her…. that you tried to block it out," is what he said instead - his voice dropping low to his own whisper, because a room full of journalists wasn’t the best place to have this conversation. His breathing slowed dramatically as Zayn pushed away from his body and turned his eyes onto Harry’s. To those who didn’t know him, he wouldn’t look very much different than usual. But, Harry could see a few tears threatening to fill his eyes on their quest to fall. It wasn’t a sight Harry (or any of the boys) would see often, either. They had  _all_  seen each other cry, but… Zayn was the least often… and it was always surreal. 

"You, like…. you really think it will be alright, I mean?" he stuttered over his words and rubbed furiously at his eyes with two closed fists - uncomfortable at exposing himself in such a way in front of people he didn’t know. Really, in front of anybody who wasn’t Niall, Liam, Louis, and Harry….. or his mum.

_"Zayn, your turn! Hurry up!"_

Harry reached out an arm and rubbed affectionately at the side of Zayn’s hair - taking the moment to indulge in the feeling of it’s natural state. Soft and falling so adorably over his eyes that Harry’s heart hurt a little. “Yeah, Zee…" he gave his most reassuring smile. “I think it will be fine." The weight of Zayn’s arm slinging itself over his shoulder had Harry sighing contently, as he was wrapped in a quick one-armed hug and he watched with fond eyes as his friend pushed himself off the couch and stride his way into Lou’s chair.

~~~

Harry begrudgingly dragged himself up off his couch, where he had - quite comfortably - been watching the X-Factor live show. He usually went over to Louis’ house to eat takeaway and judge (unfairly harshly considering they understood the pressures of being on that stage) the contestants, as they either killed (in the good way) or murdered (in the  _bad_  way) their songs. But, Jade had gone over to his house instead - and Harry more than knew that he’d be in the way.

The doorbell sounded  _again_ , and Harry stopped himself from falling back into the cushions and pretending he wasn’t home, but there was a possibility it was the Chinese, so… 

However, if another fan had scaled his fence - he wasn’t going to be pleased. He didn’t buy his house (all three million pounds of it) for no reason. The front fence was high and you needed to have a code for it to open - and yet four days after he had moved in somebody had climbed the fence and knocked on his door for a picture. It hadn’t happened in a really long time, but he still wasn’t happy about it.

He grabbed his wallet off of his coffee table and started to make his way down the hallway towards the front door. “How much did this come to, again?" he asked himself, while sorting through the money in his hands. The doorbell sounded again just as he reached it, and when he pulled it open Zayn stood in the place where his Chow Mein should be. “You’re not my takeaway," he beamed. Zayn’s face stayed firm, a small frown stapled in place. “What’s wrong?" Harry asked making his way back inside, already aware that his friend was following.

In fact, Harry was surprised Zayn had even bothered to knock.

"You shouldn’t answer the door in your pants… especially if you’re waiting for food."

Harry just tossed a laugh over his shoulder and led them back through the hallway and into his living room, “I’m pretty positive everybody who delivers here is used to it by now, but thanks for the advice. Do you want a beer, or something?"

Zayn settled himself into his spot on the couch - kicking his shoes off (because Harry was actually a bit of a neat freak when it came down to it) and pulling his knees up to rest under his chin. “Yeah, alright." He watched Harry walk away and let his eyes settle in on the telly in front of him. It was just coming back from an advert about a special new wood cleaner when Harry shouted from the kitchen,  _"So, what’s going on? Why are you here?"_

The doorbell sounded again, so instead of answering the question Zayn grabbed Harry’s wallet and went to accept the food he had ordered. 

~~~

Walking back into the living room, Zayn took notice of the two plates Harry had brought out and started to pull out the order. “And people think Niall likes to eat," he scoffed.

“ _Hey_ ," was the response he received. “We just did I photo shoot. I deserve it."

They sat back and piled the food onto their plates. As always with the two of them, they fell quickly into familiar territory.

A tall man with graying hair sauntered onto the screen and began to belt out a soft-pop 80’s ballad, causing Harry to grumble about Christopher Malony look-a-likes and how he needed to be eliminated before any of his favorites went home. So, Zayn (just because he had always liked to see Harry a little on edge - enjoying the red flush of his cheeks and his clenched jawline) countered with all the good things about Christopher Squared, even though there really were none and he didn’t actually like him. As usual his teasing prompted Harry to kick sporadically at his legs, before settling them in his lap. And as usual, Zayn just let his hands rest on top.

And he felt comfortable - the sadness and disappointment flowing away from him for the time being, because he _couldn’t_  be that way around his friend. Harry’s wide dimpled grin made it impossible to be upset - and that’s why he had come over. But eventually, as another contestant who Harry didn’t deem worthy of their attention took the stage, he set his beer back onto the wooden coffee table in front of him and turned  to face him. “So… really, Zayn," Harry started - mild curiosity evident in his eyes. “You know I love when you come over, but what’s going on?"

Zayn’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. 

The group (a boy band they all already didn’t like and were dressing exactly like them) on the stage ran around - dismissing choreography in a very ‘One Direction’ way - and butchered the lyrics to a classic song that they never should of touched. The condensation on his beer bottle felt warm against his fingers, which he was pretty sure wasn’t the correct bodily reaction. “Perrie’s packing up her stuff, right now," he finally spoke, intentionally keeping his gaze off of Harry - who was sure to be actively trying not to scoff. “She thinks…. like, she thinks I don’t treat her right…. so she’s moving back into her flat and we’re… we’re done."

Harry didn’t speak and instead pulled his feet off of Zayn’s lap. The lack of response led Zayn to believe the conversation was dropped - which surprised him. So, he curled deeper within himself and returned his focus to the show.

"She’s a bitch."

Harry wasn’t the type of person to put anyone down. He genuinely cared about people and wanted them to be happy. It was one of the rarest things in the world to hear his voice filled with such anger. So, Zayn’s head snapped to the side with shocked eyes.

"You do treat her right, Zayn. You are  _so_  good to her, because you’re good to everybody….. If she’s really breaking up with you over you sleeping with somebody else when you  _weren’t together_ , than she’s horrible."

Zayn let his feet fall to the floor, “Harry —"

"No. I thought she was horrible the first time, but I tried to let it go, because she made you so happy. But…..," he coughed into a closed fist before continuing - fearful that if he paused for too long, he wouldn’t allow himself to push forward. “There are _so many_  people who’d be a good match for you… Perrie’s a great person, but she’s not one of them."

Zayn just sighed and let his eyes rest shut, “She _is_  a good match for me."

Harry shook his head quickly back and forth - his brown curls falling down into his eyes. He brushed them briskly to the right and placed a hand onto Zayn’s knee. “No she’s not… she  _is_  a lot like you. Similar personality - similar everything really. But that doesn’t make somebody the person you’re supposed to be with." Leaning back against the couch, Harry put the flat of his palms over his eyes - his sudden burst giving him a headache.

Zayn let his eyes slide over towards his friend, before settling on his ankles. The Screw he had tattooed into Harry’s skin was fading ever so slightly - and he made a mental note to suggest letting him touch it up. 

It seemed wrong to let anybody else do it. 

They had tattooed them on each other a long time ago and it was supposed to be a small representation of their friendship together. If they were both being honest, however, neither of them really knew why it was a Screw that they had picked. But, despite their lack of knowledge on the choice of tattoo, he knew it was important. In fact, he could remember the day they did it pretty well. It was the day he had off-handedly told the story getting off with a guy friend from back home - and he could recall Harry’s peaked interest in the conversation. He thought he was laughing at him, even though it wasn’t a secret to any of the band that Harry didn’t like boys and didn’t like girls. He just liked people. He could be attracted to anybody.

_Somehow_  (he wasn’t actually quite sure, and thought about it every time he saw the black lines on their ankles) it had turned into a band thing, though. And Zayn didn’t mind admitting to himself that he was a little disappointed. They could of gotten something else together. 

The Screw was his and Harry’s.

Dragging himself away from his sea of thoughts, Zayn returned to the surface to find Harry watching him curiously. “And who am I supposed to be with, Harry?" he challenged. “If you have a good candidate, I wouldn’t mind hearing who you have to say…… No?"

Harry didn’t move. The light from the telly splashed continuously - highlighting the crevices created by his pinched face. Gary scooted forward in his chair, tearing apart an act that wasn’t his, because that’s just what he did - full of useless opinions. But, Zayn would rather be listening to him spew on about how off pitch people were than having the… argument he was. And when it turned into a argument  he had no idea. And why it turned into an argument… he had theories.

Nobody, outside of his mum, seemed to care so much for Zayn’s well being as much as Harry did. Anytime he had any sort-of problem, Harry was the one he went to talk about it and only if he had absolutely  _no clue_  how to help, would Zayn move on to ask for somebody else’s advice.

Harry was charming - everybody and their uncle knew that. But, he was also quiet - and enjoyed spending time by himself. They were similar in that way. He and Zayn. They were both quite introverted and yet around each other blossomed. 

This wasn’t exclusive  It was extremely clear that Harry was best mates with Louis. That they got on with each other in a way most people didn’t understand.

But he was different with Zayn - and all of them knew it.

Louis had even ventured to speak about it with him, once.  _"If you hurt him, I will **destroy**  you,"_ he had said (a hint of mirth, because it’s  _Louis_  - but deadly serious all the same). Though, Zayn hadn’t been sure what that was supposed to mean. But after awhile he had changed his mind. He knew exactly what it meant. He would run his thumb over the black of the Screw whenever Harry’s feet made their way into his lap - and he knew. He would hear Harry’s content sigh as they sank deeper into the mattress when they roomed together on tour - somehow ending up in the same bed - and he knew.

His eyes softened as he took in Harry’s wilted expression. 

_"Nicole - please introduce your next act!"_

Harry suddenly felt oddly exposed - something that wasn’t common even in front of the most strange of strangers. Zayn had seen him in less clothing than he currently had on, and in far more compromising positions. Yet for some reason,  _this_  was the moment he willed the floor to open up and swallow him. "…Can we not talk about it," he let out a shaky hushed tone.

Zayn shook his head, “I’m the one who just got…. dumped. I’m here because you’re who I talk to about these things." He watched his friend push himself up off the couch and hook two fingers into the holes of the empty bottles that sat on the coffee table. Harry’s shoulders, naturally broad and hard from the rigorous exercise routine he had set for himself after fans started naming his chub, were set in a locked position - the tension evident in all of his muscles.

"I just don’t see the point," he muttered, before abandoning Zayn on the couch and shuffling back to his kitchen to rinse the bottles out and place them in the recycle bin.

~~~

Walking through the doorway and up to the sink, he set them down into the tub and tugged at the spouts - the water spraying down. Pulling the detachable spout - he filled the bottles up, before placing it back, swirling the water, and draining it out. He startled only slightly once Zayn’s voice sounded behind him. But it hadn’t necessarily been unexpected. Zayn was fairly quiet and reserved, but he was also persistent  “You don’t see what point?"

And Harry was starting to wonder if excessive sighing could kill you, because it’s all he seemed to be doing around his friend. “Listen Zayn," he exhaled once more. “If you already know… what I think… than it doesn’t matter."

When Zayn didn’t respond, Harry pressed forward to fill the empty space.

"I don’t ever talk about it, but… you know what I think about your relationship with Perrie…" he shoved off the counter to open one of the cabinets and dispose of the bottles in the bin below. When he turned back around, Zayn had hopped up onto open counter space - his feet dangling and swinging carefully. “And even if  _you_  don’t talk about it…  you _know_  how I feel about… things."

Zayn watched Harry shuffle his feet, swish his hair, and cough. It was a subconscious routine.

"But it’s fine," he walked forward and stood in front of Zayn - a careful distance as to not get kicked. It was one of the few occurrences where their eyes were on the same level and Zayn enjoyed being able to look straight at Harry without titling his neck ever so slightly up (not that he disliked it that way). “I’m just not sure that I’m going to… tell you what you want to hear, because I _do_  think you can find somebody better," he let his eyes drift to the floor - uncomfortable with meeting Zayn’s calculating gaze. It wasn’t very common of him to find himself so off center. “I’m not saying  _me_ , because I’m well aware that isn’t something you want -"

"Harry -"

”- but somebody who actually wants to be with you, _back_. Doesn’t break it off at the drop of a hat just because they know you’ll keep taking them back."

"Haz -"

 But Harry ignored Zayn’s futile attempts to end the rant he could feel building up inside him. “Because, that’s what Perrie does. She has…. set rules and guidelines that she expects you to follow….. and the second you step off of that path - at least in her opinion - she crushes you…….. figuratively."

Slight movement caught Zayn’s gaze and he let himself detach his focus from Harry’s face (which was relatively calm despite his current feelings) down to his hands, which were twisting and turning together in a way that expressed his distress at the topic of conversation in a way that his facial features refused to.

His long fingers stroked and gripped at each other  in painful looking vice. Fingers that tended to find their way running through Zayn’s quiff in the backseat of the van after a long day of promo. Fingers that would gently comb out the knots that gallons of hairspray had created. Fingers that would rub soothingly over his scalp. Grip lovingly on his forearm whenever he was near. Twirl the hair at the base of his neck whenever he was pulled in for a hug. And dance distractedly on his shoulder blade while all of their arms would sling together for group shots.

"….it’s actually quite manipulative - if you  _really_  want my thoughts, Zayn. You deserve better than that - better than what she…."

There were times (like this) when Zayn wondered if they should just listen completely to the fans. They were right about so much - even if they didn’t have all of the facts about them - or even know them at all. 

They were right when they said that no matter how wild Liam went with Andy (wonderful lad, they all just thought he was  _peachy_  - at least that’s how they acted when either boy was present) he was still hurting over no longer being with Danielle. It didn’t matter that it had been a year since their split. Of course - then there were aspects where Zayn thought they maybe weren’t exactly  _wrong_ , but quick to jump to conclusions.. It might not of been Danielle so much as just not doing well without being in a solid relationship. He thrived better that way. Liam’s new found Single Man Spirit didn’t really suit him. 

The fans were also right that Louis was fairly done with how everything was playing out. He didn’t want to leave the band (they had all worryingly discussed it with him) - he just wanted attacks on his personal character and the personal character of his friends and family to stop. They had all thought time would tone things down, but it hadn’t - just increased. He was tired.

The fans were right that Niall was as relaxed as anybody could ever be in their situation. He had always been ‘carefree’ - ever since the X-Factor days, when somebody needed to be calm. But that would remind Zayn that they could be wrong about him, too. Niall wasn’t one to explode about a rumor on Twitter the way Louis was, but he wasn’t one to let it slide either. And when mentions of a sex tape came spewing out a few months back - he had been pretty livid.

So, Zayn wasn’t sure his theory really held any weight and was slightly worried at his lack of attention span.

But then there was Harry and the fan’s perception of him.

They were right that he was attractive and charming. Nobody could doubt that, not even Zayn (and he had never really bothered to). Fans made scrapbooks for them all of the time (though they had had to start throwing some out after awhile) stating the amazing things about each one of the boys. And as he stood in Harry’s kitchen watching him grind his palms together - Zayn had to agree that Harry did, in fact, have a nice pair of hands. But, he had always known that - with the amount of physical contact their band had. Recently the smooth of his finger tips had being altered, though, as Niall taught him day by day how to play the guitar. It was nice a nice change - the kind that made Harry beam with pride whenever he got the chords right.

He was also just a great person to be around. They constantly had things to talk about and to do. Harry was the friend the rest of the boys talked to about serious subjects. He was quite mature for his age, which was one of the main reasons that most of his friends outside of the band were quite a bit older than him.

He had so many redeeming qualities that Zayn would be one of the first people to point out. He had bad qualities as well, though. One of which was his ability to snuff his own personal feelings in order to appease those around him. Harry would set aside his troubles if it meant helping somebody else’s with theirs. He was constantly taking in the brute of rumors involving him and Louis, all because he knew how much it bothered his friend. He would willingly be labeled a womanizer (it didn’t matter if he only went out as much as the next nineteen year old) if it took the heat of the press off of his fellow band mates  despite the fact that blind-less hate wounded him more deeply than than others. Louis thought it was a good trait - to care so strongly for your friends that you’d stay willingly in the fire - and Niall and Liam agreed with him. 

Zayn didn’t. Especially because it seemed as if Harry put aside his feelings with him in mind more than any other.

"…and Louis told me I shouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it - and not to say it if I thought it would upset anybody…"

The idea the Harry had been trying to help him with his relationship despite the fact that he wanted it to crash and burn (and Zayn did  _know_  Harry wanted it to crash and burn) hurt Zayn’s heart a bit. It made him feel like a bad friend that he would place his head in Harry’s lap, because he knew it would be scratched. That they would curl up together on the tour bus and watch movies whenever they couldn’t get to sleep - and know that Harry probably thought more of it personally than Zayn had personally considered himself.

And that was just it. He hadn’t personally considered it for himself. 

Zayn had acknowledged Harry’s fondness of him and acknowledged his fondness for Harry. But, he had never considered it in the specific light he would need to, to understand where the younger boy was coming from - and what led to his feelings on the subject. Had there been something Zayn had missed? Some crucial moment in their friendship that flipped the switch for his friend from ‘You’re one of my best mates, I love you’ to ‘You’re one of my best mates, I’m in love with you’. Or had it been gradual and he’d just not been paying enough attention, because he was too busy trying to date people who were unutterably wrong for him (like the time bomb that was his relationship with Geneva), not in the same place mentally (and Rebecca flashed through his mind), or people who fed off of him until he was so enraptured and transfixed in it all that he didn’t even know what to do with himself. 

Perrie.

Would he of felt what Harry felt if he hadn’t gotten so distracted in everything whirling around in his life? Did he have deep rooted feelings for Harry that were different than his feelings for Niall, Liam, and Louis? That seemed possible to Zayn, if he was going to be completely honest with himself. He had always felt most comfortable with the curly haired boy from Cheshire - even from the beginning of their formation when they were all still getting used to being around four other people all day everyday (they really did get along quick, but it wasn’t as necessarily as seamless as they tried to remember it). Or was he just trying to convince himself that he should see Harry in that light, because Harry was  _always_  there for him and he wanted the boy standing in front of him to be happy?

Not that he had been sitting in agony. Whilst Harry  _had_  wanted more with Zayn for longer than he’d care to admit - he hadn’t been wallowing in self pity or anything. He’d been out and about just like any other guy his age (which hadn’t helped the rumor mill much). Just moments prior he had mentioned Zayn’s indifference - and was living as if it was true despite the fact that he had never verbally asked.

And even as he thought his thoughts, Zayn knew nothing was making any sense.

He pulled, dragged himself out of the thoughts swirling around in his head - a difficult task. Zayn could think and ponder things for ages and often did. Secluding withing himself and not speaking or responding promptly for hours.

Harry was one of the few people that could pull him out of it, or just sit beside him in a comfortable silence until he eventually drifted back.

His eyes slowly pulled back into focus, soon followed by his ears. When the last remaining segments of his mind pulled themselves from the spinning - Zayn’s gaze focused in on Harry who was no longer speaking, but instead stood in front of him - an understanding smiling tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Did you miss that last bit, then?" he smiled softly - his eyes blinking slowly in a way he looked at Zayn and no one else.

"Yeah," Zayn laughed lowly. He was a little woozy from the effort of working the puzzle that was their relationship. “I might of."

Harry’s head dipped in a knowing nod - more used to Thoughtful Zayn than other people seemed to be. Everybody else pushed and prodded, but that really wasn’t the way to go. “If you didn’t hear me, than never mind " he petted at Zayn’s hair. Lou had cut it the day prior before the photo shoot - back to a fluffy down style that Harry preferred. Completely void of any sort-of product, it slipped carefully through his fingers before falling back into place. “Probably for the best."

"No, tell me again," Zayn let his head pool heavier into Harry’s palm, who responded as he always did, and Zayn took the opportunity to see how he felt about it. But, as Harry’s fingers wove their way through his fringe - Zayn determined it felt the same as it always did. But, in deciding that it felt the same - he realized it was probably nicer than he had initially acknowledged. The tension that had arisen in his own body seemed to melt at Harry’s touch. 

And it had been like that for as long as Zayn could remember.

His eyes drifted closed and he was fairly positive he heard Harry mutter about not wanting to know. “No, tell me again."

Harry watched the raven threads fall through his fingers. It felt nice, but it always felt nice. Zayn’s closed eyelids twitched ever so slightly and his eyelashes fluttering across his skin caught Harry’s attention. 

Zayn was… pretty.

Harry was sure he mentioned that in an interview once or twice after being asked who he’d date in the band. He liked having opportunities to mention his attraction to Zayn, without making a huge deal out of it. It was true, though. Anybody who tried to pretend that they wouldn’t pay to just sit in a room with Zayn and look at him was out of their mind. 

He had the most entrancing eyes Harry had even seen, covered by eyelashes that no human being should have. His jawline could cut glass. More than once Harry had to fight the urge to just attack and kiss along the line. But, he didn’t want to kiss his jaw nearly as much as he constantly wanted to lean in and press their lips together. “No, if you’re supposed to hear it, you will." There were a few times where they had both been drunk enough for Harry to be able to take it there, but he knew once wouldn’t be enough and he’d be caught. Deeper than he already was. Deeper than he had ever been. Deeper than Zayn was with Perrie. Far away in a secluded place he was sure nobody else had ever before been. 

He wanted to avoid that as best he could.

Zayn blindly smiled, “You sound like me."

Harry wan’t stupid. He was well aware Zayn didn’t reciprocate the feelings he had. And even if he did - it was more than likely fleeting and intentionally done.  _Hoping_  to reciprocate for  _Harry’s_  well being.

The idea that Zayn could…. love him back would send him into a small panic attack. 

It was just best to expect the worst.

Zayn pushed himself forward, slightly, his own fingers reaching out to tug on Harry’s shirt, before remembering he had nothing on but a pair of pants. His fingers met toned, warm skin instead - prompting a startled inhale from the boy in front of him. One hand dug softly into his hip bone, while the other weaved carefully around his neck - the tips of his fingers grazing against the chains rested around Harry’s neck (one Zayn had given him for his nineteenth birthday). Zayn let his eyes graze open briefly to take in Harry’s expression - which had turned from calm and serene to startled in a matter of seconds. Physical contact was plenty in One Direction, but it never happened much in the moments when either of them were tip-toeing around the complication they were in. And Harry’s eyes matched those thoughts.

Tugging gently at the back of Harry’s neck, Zayn brought them in close and paused for a brief moment - to let their breath mix for a few seconds. He had just started to think about Harry - to wonder if he had been missing something he should of had for a long time. Harry had been wondering about this for awhile, and suddenly it mattered massively how it went. 

Bringing them closer, Zayn brushed his lips tentatively over Harry’s - who wasn’t moving - and carefully, he let himself kiss his friend. All in all he probably shouldn’t of been doing it so quickly after being booted out of a relationship and he thought Harry might of been having similar thoughts - since he had lacked to respond. 

Zayn had to admit that he had found himself watching Harry through out their lives more often than he had really realized  The very moment he touched a new body part - he could recall a moment where he had thought about it in a way that left him flushed and unsure.

Daily, Harry’s necklaces would brush down over his collar bones and Zayn would subconsciously wonder what they would look like dangling as Harry lay over him. Harry would wear a swoop neck shirt and Zayn’s focus would lock in on the birds placed delicately across his skin. Harry’s hand would clasp around his shoulder (his other doing the same with  Niall on his left) and somewhere in the back of his mind, Zayn would wonder what else his hands could do.

His thumb grazed lightly at the back of Harry’s neck and he brushed his tongue along the pink bottom lip.

Something sparked in Harry’s own mind and he shuffled himself closer towards Zayn’s body - settling in between his knees. His second arm reached up to clasp at his friend and he sighed as their tongues glided together. It was everything he had always imagined it to be, but as he remembered that it had been something he had been wanting and something Zayn had ignored - he pulled away. 

Zayn tried to pull Harry back to him - bum sat dangerously close to the edge of the counter. “You can’t do this," he heard Harry’s ragged voice sound in front of him. Pulling his eyes open, he took in Harry’s appearance. His hair was more wild than it had been when he opened the front door and his pupils threatened to overtake the green of his eyes. He seemed to be struggling between wanting to dive back in and an anger that wasn’t common for him. “You can’t do that to me," he groaned - hurt lacing his voice in a way Zayn hadn’t expected. 

"What do you mean?"

Harry was shaking his head, “No. You can’t do this to me." Zayn pushed himself off of the counter - bare feet making contact with the cold tile floor. “I don’t want you… kissing me… if it’s not something you’d actually want."

The raven-haired boy made a move to interrupt, but Harry’s flushed cheeks turned quickly to the sides before continuing, “You and Perrie… you’re just now done and.. I am actually sorry for you. But I have to not get hurt, just because you’re hurt…" He took a couple more steps back. “I don’t just want to snog once or twice. I want to go out to eat with you - well aware that’s it’s not just how we usually do it. Like a… date. And I want to hold your hand and stuff….. if that’s not what you want - and I don’t think it is - than…. you can’t kiss me…. because that’s not fair."

They both stood silent watching each other  before Harry turned to walk back through the door and back to the living room. 

~~~

When Zayn stepped back into the room, Harry was curled back on the couch like the kitten he was and Zayn couldn’t help smiling. He climbed over Harry’s outstretched legs, and flopped back onto the cushions. Another singer was on screen and Zayn chuckled at Harry’s face when she hit a few really bad bum notes. 

This meant a lot to both of them, that they were so close to one another that they could just sit right back down as if nothing went wrong. It reminded Zayn why he had considered Harry his best friend for so long. 

He watched Harry’s eyebrows furrow as the woman on screen began to speak back to Tulisa - unhappy with the critique she was receiving. He looked cute. He always looked cute, it was Harry in his natural state. Harry was warm and kind and… the weirdest person Zayn had ever met. He happily talked about things that nobody ever understood and ate more fruit than humanly possible. He curled around anything and anyone like a leech, but a really… sweet one. Harry practically purred whenever somebody scratched behind his ears. In fact, the small sounds that ripped out of the back of his throat whenever somebody was doing so, Zayn realized, were one of his favorite things.

He loved everything about him. He _could_  envision them walking down the street with their fingers clasped together. He could see them leaving the cinema bantering about the movie Harry loved that he thought was a ten million pound pile of crap. Which they already did, but then _kissing_ him to shut up him up. He could see himself hanging out with friends at a club, with girls (and guys) coming up and offering to buy him a drink, but wanting nobody else. It wasn’t a bad thought. It was being with Harry like normal, but with extra privileges that Zayn would greatly enjoy.

It was different than Perrie, for some reason. With Perrie, Zayn was constantly aware and cautious of his actions - in a way he hadn’t really been before. He was careful when going out with friends (which wasn’t actually his favorite thing anyway, because he’d prefer to lounge on the couch) to not give anybody the impression that he was looking to pull. He wasn’t looking, but Perrie had caught whiffs from mutual friends who weren’t really friends that he had done something wrong and she would cut him out for awhile. Put him on a probation of sorts, whether or not he deserved it.

She never trusted him while he was on tour, to not cheat on her. That had always bothered him for a variety of reasons. He didn’t feel it was in his character, and  _she_  was the one who had strayed once upon a time.

She…. belittled him every second they were together - made him feel lucky to have her despite it… and he was  _just_  realizing it. 

Harry always helped him through it, even if he didn’t actually want to - and there was the difference.

Harry wanted him to be happy. Perrie didn’t.

He watched Harry grab the clicker off of the arm off the couch as Dermot said his final goodbyes of the night, and click over to ITV2 just as Caroline and (newly signed) Nick made their way onto the screen to host Xtra.

"Fuck it," he exhaled - pulling himself out of his seated position and pushing a surprised Harry down to lie along the length of the couch. The clicker clunked to the wood floors. He smiled once - a genuine smile that reached and tugged up the very corners of his eyes - which Harry searched quickly to determine Zayn’s head space. What he actually wanted. If he was just _so_  wounded of his loss of relationship that he was blind to wounding others. 

Harry smiled back and slotted their lips together.


End file.
